“No—not six years ago.”
“Then was there a man you wanted?”
“There were several men. But I didn’t want them hard enough or they didn’t want me simultaneously.”
“Where are they now?”
“God knows—quarreling with their wives, perhaps.”
“And you don’t care?”
“Truly—not a bit.” Margaret’s eyes were level and quite frank. “It’s all dreadful nonsense, this magazine story stuff about the spinsters with their secret yearnings covered up all the time. I’m going to do something to prick that bubble before I die. Of course the conceit of married people is endless but at least spinsters have a right to as much dignity as bachelors.”
“All right,” said Helen, “I’ll respect you. I know I’m going home and that you aren’t following me with wistful eyes wishing you could caress my babies. Is that it? You comb your hair without a qualm and go down to dinner.”
“Exactly. Only before you go I want you to promise to go with us on this trip to the country towns. We’ll be gone three days only. Gage can spare you.”
“I don’t quite see what use I’d be.”